If the Fates were Reversed
by Turtler
Summary: Takes place during the timeline of the game, but under far different circumstances. Commander Sheppard is now one of the rising stars of the Alliance fleet, and has been taken under the wing of the first human Spectre, Commander David Anderson. See Inside


Ok than, this is a little bit of an AU I cooked up after reading the novel and playing the game, and given the fact that my SG-1/SG-A fanfic is a bit frozen, I have decided to set this thing out here. This does not mean I am abandoning the Nemesis Series, but that I am trying to get my muse back into action.

For clarification, I have tried to stay as true to the story as possible while still putting in my changes to it, so I hope it will be interesting.

To start, I must say that this is in part to restart the muse and in part to address what I believe are flawed areas of the game's story, as, while I can understand the time constraints involved, I still am a bit irritated as to some blind spots in the plot. However, the plot as it is will be difficult to bring to bear on rectifying those changes, hence why this is AU.

So, long story short, here we go:

SPOILER WARNING! DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE GAME!

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, Language, Mild urrmm… Intimate details, spoilers, death, and AU.

Summary: Takes place during the timeline of the game, but under far different circumstances. Commander Sheppard is now one of the rising stars of the Alliance fleet, and has been taken under the wing of the famous first human Spectre, Commander David Anderson. Rumors circulate that he has been put forth into the selection process for Spectres, to follow his mentor. However, these plans are interrupted when a distress signal from the Human colony of Eden Prime leads to two Turian Spectres of Legendary caliber , and mentor and student, going rouge from the council. Sheppard is tracked with hunting them down, only to discover himself pitched against an array of foes.

Surrounded on all sides by intrigue and enemies, Sheppard and his crew must unravel the mystery to stop an epic disaster from coming.

Prologue: As the Clock Strikes Twelve

The cramped quarters of the box did not make for comfortable quarters. This was one of three things he knew for sure at this point in time, as he had more-than adequate time to grow acquainted with it.

He did not know how long it was from the point that he had jumped in to now, but even in the disorientation that accompanied the shifts in time zones, he knew that it had to be at least two of his species' days and nights. It was at this moment that he finally, at long last, heard the door of the transport open, allowing him to take in the scent of Agriculture mixed with one that wanted to make sick.

However, he knew that he had to remain calm and in control. However tempting it was to move about, eat, sleep, sneak, or put a bullet in the skulls of one of these overdeveloped apes, he knew that he could not.

And so he waited as the crane set the boxes down in the spaceport, one by one.

Eventually, his time came.

The feeling of being pulled up was not a pleasant one, but was in comparison to that of being set down with a rough thud. However, he looked through the cracks in the crate, observing those around him, and patting himself on the back for having the foresight to deactivate some of his implants to prevent detection.

Slowly, the Humans started to lessen, and, some time after 10, the final human left to go back to whatever it was that those barbarians did.

It was about this time that the Turian emerged from the crate, onto the spaceport on the Human colony Eden Prime.

He did a quick look around, as countless years of experience had advised him to, and then, assured that the port of clear of all visible threats, he took a look at the clock.

Almost as if by script, the primitive device's shorter hand went to the top of the fact, and a loud chime echoed throughout the complex, moving further and further away, and slowly but surely dying out.

He did not know the specific relationship between Eden Prime's time and his own, but he believed that, if the primitive designs that those primates were using had any relation to the norm, than this was the time Turian folklore called the Witching Hour, the time when the Night and Day almost meet.

The Hour when almost anything can happen.

A slight unease crept into his mind, but he quickly shook it off, and he began to focus on the hard reality of what to do.

He realized that he would have to find a hiding place for the rest of the night, as, regardless of how therapeutic shooting one or two Humans may be, it would hurt the mission. He would have to be prepared and hidden by the time the attack started if he were to have any hope of intercepting the true cause of it, and it was vitally important that he did so, as more than he knew depended on it.

So, grudgingly, Saren Arterius, the feared Spectre, began to search for a place to conceal himself, while hoping that the ruse he had pulled on the council would hold for as long as was necessary.

Because if it did not, his presence here would mean that he would be suspect for the coming storm on Eden Prime. And, however envious he was of whoever got the chance to wipe out a human colony, he realized that being suspected would mean that the suspicion would be cast on him.

And that meant it would be further away from the actual foe.

So, Saren accepted what he would have to do: He would have enough time to do a cursory recon of the area, but then he would have to hunker down and hide.

And then wait for the Tempest.

So, any thoughts? Please review this and, if you are a SG-1 or SG-A fan, The Gathering Storm.


End file.
